Revolutions

36 - Atoyaqtli

"You know there are supernatural creatures roaming these lands, right?"

Chiqama and I let out another exasperated sigh as we hike these steep hills. We've been on these trails for only a couple of days, yet I'm more tired of Naqispi's postulating than the travels. On the first day, he was mercifully quiet, but ever since, he's been relentless in regaling us with tales of mythical beasts and powerful sorcerers, whose capabilities go well beyond that of the Eleven. It's evoked nothing but eye rolls from the rest of us, but Naqispi persists.

"Have I told you about Qapila, the giant capybara-eating serpent that ambushes its prey from the edge of the water?"

"Yes, a thousand times already," Chiqama moans. "And there hasn't been any water around for many legs of this trek, so we're safe from 'Qapila'." He waves his hands in mock surrender. Naqispi narrows his eyes and hmms as he thinks.

"Surely I haven't mentioned Qotli, the large–"

"Reptilian bird with talons the size of its wings," Chiqama interrupts. "You and reptilian creatures, Naqispi. Your imagination is starting to circle back upon itself. I'm growing concerned for you."

Undeterred, Naqispi immediately follows up by saying, "okay, I definitely have not said anything about Waliq, the bear the size of a mountain." Chiqama is silent, refusing to make eye contact with Naqispi, but his efforts are futile—I'm surprised Chiqama doesn't simply lie just to keep Naqispi quiet, but he's too honest for his own good. Naqispi excitedly claps his hands, then rubs them together in anticipation for the story he's about to tell.

"Long ago, when Aqxilapu was forming Qiapu–"

"How on Pachil do you know about Qiapu legends?" Chiqama interjects. He makes a fair point: although the Sanqo are well traveled, we don't spend an exorbitant amount of time listening to or learning about other factions' histories or mythologies. I would never confess it to him, but I'm impressed someone like Naqispi actually knows of such things, assuming he's not fabricating it, as he has with all his other fables.

"If you would stop interrupting me," Naqispi scolds, then continues. "When Aqxilapu was forming Qiapu, he created the land by merging the mountain ranges together, right? Right? Well, anyway, as he reached for one particular mountain, he revealed the lair of a gigantic bear, Waliq, a fiercely protective creature who fought Him to defend his cubs–"

"Wait, did the male bear give birth to the cubs?" Chiqama asks.

"Well, no. Obviously, there is a mother–"

"So there are two such bears? Where's the mother? Are there more of these bears than just the two?"

"I don't know if there are more," Naqispi responds, growing more and more irritated at the interrogation. "I only know of the two. And the mother is probably out hunting for humans to feed to her cubs."

"Why didn't Aqxilapu notice her out and about before forming his land, then?" Chiqama asks. "If I saw a giant bear had made her home in a particular region, I wouldn't disrupt it just so I can craft my own lands and have to deal with angry bears all the time. It seems unnecessarily intrusive to remove creatures from their habitat so I can move in."

"Iaqa, spare us," Pomacha bellows to the heavens, the first words, I believe, I've heard him utter since we've set foot in these lands. It startles us, to the point where we all fall silent, returning our concentration to hiking this steep, rocky path.

Wandering these labyrinthine trails in the Tapeu highlands grants me an abundance of time to reflect—when not being inundated by Naqispi's storytelling—the events that led to this journey still ripple in the depths of my memory. Being entrusted with such a mission by the great Sanqo leader, Siunqi, is, of course, an honor, though it comes with its own setbacks. We could be returning to the comforts of our homeland, yet we are the selected few who must carry out our designated task fraught with peril instead. This is the life that we, in accord with our god of the sea, Iaqa, have consciously chosen to embrace.